Monday, August 13, 2012

Je m'appelle Lindsey

I recently decided that all of my crazy thoughts needed an outlet. All the anger, the road rage, the random waxing nostalgic or philosophical, and the occasional wit were cluttering up my otherwise clear thinking head and needed out. The way I see it, there's a lot of nonsense out there on that interweb thing. As a society, we're very unlikely to ever clean it up or clear it out - kind of like electronic thought landfills. So, I may as well contribute too.

Brevity is an art form that I have never mastered, nor even dabbled in. Facebook statuses left me unfulfilled and twittering, or whatever the kids are calling it, was never a medium meant for me. When I have something to say, I must have the freedom to run on and ramble, lest I ever clearly make my point, but rather jump from thought to thought like a fruit fly you chase around your kitchen as it passes in and out of your view between the bananas and the windowsill and back over towards the trash can. Little bastard. Where did you come from? Why do you love bananas so much? It's not like you can even eat the good part with the peel on you know! But as I was saying... brevity, no, never been my strong suit.
Nor am I able to effectively communicate 2 peepl using lttrs & #s to save precious space. It reads funny, but not good funny, just weird. Not 4 me thx!

So, having never really read an actual blog, I decided to make one of my own. With absolutely no means of comparison I have no shoes to fill and voila!, very low expectations. I will take this time to ask you, the four or five people I get to read this, to set your expectations very low. That way I will only moderately disappoint.

It came as quite a shock several months after having this idea, when I actually took the time to set up said blog, that I would have to name it. I didn't know they had names. What a long, lonely time I sat thinking of a name. Naming anything bears tremendous responsibility, especially a blog (or so I think). I would need something witty and existential, funny yet subtle, provocative and individual, with tremendous mass appeal. So I sat, and thought, and looked around the apartment for clues into my own psyche, and thought some more, and sat, and stared at the screen, and thought, and thought. After five excruciating minutes, and one failed attempt at scoring my actual name, I stumbled on the name Lindsey B Good.

It does encapsulate some of what I am trying to achieve here. I would like to be good. It has long been a desire of mine to be considered "good people" by others. I would also like to treat people better. So now instead of launching into a severe verbal attack on a band of Italian tourists taking a tour of Chelsea Market, I will instead rant to you, empty void of internet space. I will feel better having released these nasty, often funny insults, and the world will be no worse for my rage. Most importantly, my beautiful daughter, the blank slate on which I am trying to draw a most perfect individual, will not have to recount in therapy one day of the various times she saw her mother berate a 17 year old with a fanny pack for stopping short on the sidewalk. But mostly what the name symbolized, dear reader, is what you will come to learn very soon... sometimes my grammar just isn't very well.

That name lasted all of one attempt at telling someone with a straight face what my blog is called. Couldn't do it. First, I'm not really the type to name something after myself. Second, and this is really the clincher, I hated it. Back to the drawing board, or the online drawing board of sticking names into the blog address line and seeing what wasn't taken already. Enter Miss Spartacus.

So sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.
No, that sounds silly.

Thanks for reading!
No, that's just lame.

Thank you for indulging in my pre-midlife crisis. Some people get sports cars, plastic surgery or take to philandering... Four days before my 35th birthday I have chosen to help contribute to the drivel that lingers in cyber space like a bad smell... if you could smell in space, which I'm pretty sure you can't.

Here I am.

Let me entertain you.

It's now or never.

Space, the final frontier.

Seriously, I have no idea how to end this thing. How do I stop writing? This is getting out of control. Maybe I should've gotten a twitter account.

1 comment:

  1. If this is the first attempt at this blog, then I will def be stocking up on tissues due to the tears of laughter streaming down my face. Oh, and I'll probably re-think the waterproof vs non-waterproof mascara thing prior to the next read, especially when sitting in public at a sushi bar. Come to think of it, if you were in the same restaurant as may have found me as a subject for your blog. That girl roaring laughing by herself at the sushi bar....I don't doubt there are one or two in here wondering what in the world I am reading. Excellent start!


Hey, I'd love to hear from you... comments welcome!